


There Are Days

by lidarose13



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e21 18th and Potomac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-04
Updated: 2008-04-04
Packaged: 2019-05-30 12:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15096344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lidarose13/pseuds/lidarose13
Summary: Post ep to18th and Potomac





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Takes place after "18th & Potomac"  


* * *

There are days...

Officer Rhonda Sachs needed a minute to compose herself. She leaned her head  
against a wall to steady the spinning in her head. She really wanted to bang  
her head against it.

Rhonda took one more breath and moved to the Officer in charge of the  
accident scene. He told her they'd made the preliminary notification by  
phone but there'd been no official id on the body.

She offered to do it. But, in a case like this, a more personal tie was  
required. Rhonda said she'd head to the White House, she would help get it  
organized. It took one call to clear her access.

Rhonda nodded to a familiar face also leaving.

There are days...

Sometimes, Danny Concannon hated having a scanner at home. He was just  
coming in, when it crackled with a report of an accident at 18th and  
Potomac. He half listened and then the hairs on the back of his neck stood  
up.

An officer mentioned a White House parking pass in one of the cars. Danny  
flew out the door before that radio transmission was completed.

He worked his phone as he headed to the scene. The preliminary tip left him  
shaken and sad. He felt no better when he got to the accident site and  
witnessed the carnage.

Danny nodded to a familiar face as he left the scene.

There are days...

C.J. Cregg was tired beyond words. She was picking at a salad. She'd downed  
some soup already. She could catch up on work, but instead her mind  
wandered.

C.J. imagined the scene in the upcoming meeting in the Residence, imagined  
the President's live TV appearance and the frantic news conference after  
that.

But then, she imagined running away to some tropical paradise with Danny. It  
was a momentary whim. Neither of them were the kind to cut and run when  
tough times occurred. She knew she could call him and he'd be there to make  
love to her and then to hold her close through another sleepless night. And,  
he wouldn't ask questions she couldn't answer.

As if he could read her mind, Danny appeared in the doorway. Carol's head  
peeked around him. "C.J., is it okay?", she asked.

Danny looked grim and said, "It has to be. Excuse us, Carol." He shut the  
door.

C.J. wavered between being cheered at the sight of him to being annoyed he  
was prowling around. The Press Secretary won out over the lover for the  
moment. "The lid's on. You weren't paged, I don't have time for you now."

He came to sit next to her on the couch. Danny took her hand and studied her  
with sad eyes. Her blood ran cold, she panicked figuring he'd heard about  
the President's illness. "Danny, just tell me."

"C.J., I heard about an accident on my scanner. It was at 18th and Potomac.  
I saw it, it was pretty awful."

She stared at him, unconsciously squeezing his hand. "Go on."

"I checked carefully and got it confirmed. It was Mrs. Landingham."

"God, no." Her mind raced. "Let me call Leo and then I need to get to the  
hospital."

"No. C.J., I'm sorry. She's not at the hospital."

"They sent her home? That's good." C.J. looked at Danny and saw the truth in  
his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek. She wiped it away with her free hand  
and then realized what it all meant. He enveloped her in his arms.

Then it hit her. She felt a wave of nausea, Mrs. Landingham was dead. C.J.  
pushed away from Danny, "I'm going to be sick."

Danny grabbed the wastebasket and held her as she retched. Carol heard it  
through the closed door and then heard C.J. sobbing. "I can't bear any more.  
I just can't."

"Damn protocol", Carol thought and pushed open the door. "What's wrong?"

She saw her boss pale and shaking. C.J. was clinging to Danny like he was  
the only stable thing in her world.

C.J. beckoned Carol in. "Close the door. We need to tell you something. I'm  
not sure it should come from me, but I'll break the chain of command. I  
think our phones could start ringing and I'll be in the Oval Office or  
Residence. You'll need to deal with this."

"All right, C.J."

C.J. couldn't say it and looked to Danny to take the lead. He nodded.  
"Carol, there was a horrible accident tonight. I'm very sorry, but Mrs.  
Landingham was in it." Danny watched her go ashen. "I went to the scene.  
There was nothing anyone could do. She's gone."

"She was going to pick up a new car tonight. It was blue. It had air  
conditioning. We were all going to lunch tomorrow in it." Carol was rambling  
as the shock set in. "Who else knows?"

Danny shrugged. "I think some people in the Oval Office know but I'm not  
certain."

C.J. left his arms and moved to Carol. The two women hugged. "For now, keep  
this to yourself."

"All I want to do is cry, C.J. But Mrs. Landingham will have...". Carol  
corrected herself with a catch in her voice, "would have my head if I let  
myself wallow in this."

"You'll have time to grieve later.", Danny said.

"Danny, I'm going to the Oval Office. What will you...?" C.J.'s gentle query  
was interrupted.

"Ladies, I'm going to my desk and I'm going to work the phones. I need to  
start working on my story."

"Thank you.", C.J. was grateful he understood why he couldn't wander around.

"But C.J., there is something I want. I want to talk to people, I want to  
try and give Mrs. Landingham her due. That means more than just the facts of  
what happened at 18th and Potomac."

Carol spoke up. "I'll talk to you Danny. We all will when we can." She went  
to the door. "I appreciate both of you taking the time to tell me and being  
so kind." Carol returned to her desk.

C.J. and Danny were alone. She took his hands. "The same thanks from me. You  
didn't have to go there and then come here."

"Yes, I did C.J."

She nodded. "Yes, you did. It's who you are. I don't have any idea when I'll  
be out of here, if at all."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." She turned back to him. "Danny, the other driver?"

"Apparently drunk."

"Good Lord. That's just one more thing that will add to Leo's pain. He  
always feared he'd kill someone when he was drinking."

They stared into each other's eyes and shared their pain. She kissed him on  
the cheek. "I'll thank you appropriately after I brush my teeth and have  
decent breath."

They left her office and headed different directions though their minds were  
on the same person.

There are days...

The rhythmic bouncing of the ball against the wall didn't soothe Toby  
Ziegler. The throwing and catching were smooth, the thoughts and ideas in  
Toby's head were tangled.

He wasn't looking forward to the meeting with the President and the others  
in the Residence. Toby was certain it would be ugly and do more to tear them  
apart. They needed something to bring them back together like they were in  
the early days.

Knuckles rapped sharply on his door. Toby had dismissed Ginger and Bonnie  
for the evening. He decided to ignore the noise. Leo or the President would  
have Margaret or Mrs. Landingham buzz him if it was important.

The knocking continued. Toby yelled out, "This better be good."

He whirled the chair around, ready to verbally pounce on his intruder.

Instead, his face softened when Rhonda Sachs stepped into his office. "Well,  
hello." He stood up.

"Good evening, Toby."

"I said this better be good and it is. I didn't expect to see you."

"Me neither. Let's sit down." She perched on the desk while he settled back  
into his chair. He threw the ball against the wall again, the sight of  
Rhonda brought some light to his dreary day. Even in her uniform, she was  
still feminine. Toby could smell her perfume.

She intercepted Toby's next throw. "May we talk?"

"Sure." Toby answered her as he tried to take the ball to continue his game.  
She clenched it tight and he ended up holding her hand. "What brings you  
here? Duty or personal?"

"I suppose a little of both. Toby."

He took a close look at her and saw pain in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"What can I do? I'll help in any way I can."

"Toby, stop. I need to do this."

"Do what?"

"Deliver bad news."

Toby's mind immediately flashed to the President. "How could Rhonda know?",  
he thought. He said aloud. "What could this have to do with the police?"

She hated to continue but was quietly insistent. "Toby, please focus. I was  
part of a team on an accident call, it was a bad one. One of the worst I've  
ever seen."

"That must have been awful for you." Toby was glad she'd come to him seeking  
comfort. But something she'd said stuck in his mind about "bad news."

"It's awful for a lot of people, including you. Toby, the car belonged to  
Mrs. Landingham."

"Right, okay." He nodded like he understood. "We have to notify the  
President. We need to get to the hospital."

She put her other hand over their joined hands. Her voice was soft. "The  
President knows. No one has to go to the hospital. Mrs. Landingham didn't  
make it."

"That can't be Rhonda. She's one of the toughest people I've ever met."

"I was there. I saw the damage. It was mercifully quick. She didn't know,  
Toby."

Toby echoed Rhonda in a hollow tone, "She didn't know." His voice quavered  
and he repeated, "She didn't know."

For him it was the realization Mrs. Landingham would never have to deal with  
the President's illness or its ensuing consequences. Toby was grateful her  
faith in Josiah Bartlet was unshaken.

But, he was shaken knowing she was gone from their lives. "Thank you for  
being the one to tell me."

She nodded. "I wanted to check on you and Charlie." She saw tears in Toby's  
eyes. "Call me whenever, for whatever." Rhonda headed for the door.

Toby's voice stopped her. "Officer, before I make my one phone call, would  
you hold me?"

Rhonda turned without a word and came back to him. She wrapped her arms  
around him and held him close. Her own tears fell as he sobbed the way  
Charlie had when she found him staring at a crystal cookie jar.

There are days....


	2. There Are Days

There are days...

Danny Concannon's work could be found in two sections of the morning "Post".  
The facts were on page one, a glimpse at the faces and feelings behind  
those facts were in a column on the Op-Ed page.

************

Empty Place, Full Hearts  
by  
Danny Concannon

For the first time in 15 years, Delores Landingham is not at work. The woman  
who was Josiah Bartlet's right hand, died in a car accident. You'll find the  
facts about that in another part of this paper.

Here, you'll meet the person who died last night at 18th & Potomac.

She would never consent to repeated interview requests. "No one wants to  
know about me.", she insisted. But, you should know all about her.

In a White House that prides itself on breezy informality, there is still  
decorum. The President and First Lady, of course, are never referred to by  
their first names. But from Chief of Staff Leo McGarry on down to the  
newest intern, first names are the rule. There was one other exception, Mrs.  
Landingham.

No one called her by her first name. It just wasn't done. The unspoken rule  
applied even to President Bartlet. He followed it for years. Mrs. Landingham  
worked for him when he was Congressman Bartlet, Governor Bartlet and now,  
President Bartlet.

But she'd known him and his family for most of their lives. Her death  
prompted members of the family who stay out of the public eye to come  
forward. Ellie Bartlet called from Medical School in the midst of her exams  
and said, "Mrs. Landingham always had a kind word for us, like an extra  
aunt. She knew my father before he met my mother."

Zoey Bartlet got to see Mrs. Landingham a lot because she is a student at  
Georgetown Universtiy. But her thoughts aren't of the present but of the  
past, of Halloween costumes. "No matter what we dreamed up, Mrs. Landingham  
made it come true. When my parents were on the campaign trail, she would be  
the link between all of us."

Mrs. Landingham revelled in her surrogate family, the Bartlets. But she also  
made the White House Staff part of her extended family. She knew the names  
of more than a thousand people.

My colleague, Libby Rhodes remembers her first meeting with the President's  
secretary. She pulled Libby aside to offer a welcome and told her to wear  
something nice the next day.

"I couldn't figure out why.", Rhodes recalled. "I certainly wasn't going to  
come to work in a torn pair of jeans. When I got to work, Mrs. Landingham  
escorted me to the Oval Office. She made sure I met the President and had my  
picture taken with him. She took my parents' names and phone number. The  
President called them that evening to say they should be proud of me."

At a time when many her age are retiring, Mrs. Landingham put in hours that  
would shame a college student. The women who worked for the other members of  
the Senior Staff called her "inspiring and intimidating". They joked that  
even the President was afraid of her.

Grown men admitted to that. Chief Of Staff Leo McGarry flew combat missions  
in Viet Nam. Still, when Mrs. Landingham was on the warpath, he considered  
retreat. "We were on opposite sides of some issues. It was usually good  
natured, I suggested things had changed from the covered wagon days. She  
denied me access to the cookie jar after that."

He wasn't the first powerful name to suffer that fate. The crystal cookie  
jar on her desk was a symbol of your standing in the Bartlet White House.  
Filled with delicious treats, available by invitation only.

She pulled the plug on Communications Director Toby Ziegler. "Mrs.  
Landingham got huffy at my suggestion she was too sarcastic for a woman her  
age. I had to backpedal and claim she looked to be in her late 20's. It was  
a no sale."

But Ziegler called her a woman to count on, a woman to stand tall.  
"Christmas Eve, 1999; I arranged for an honor guard for a homeless Korean  
War veteran's funeral. First, she chewed me out for doing something that  
might appear improper. Then, Mrs. Landingham announced she would go to the  
cemetery too. She knew the importance of having mourners recognize your  
sacrifice."

Mrs. Landingham had been a mourner at military funerals before. She was  
married to the late Henry Landingham. They had twin sons, Andrew and Simon.  
The boys grew up together, went to medical school together and they enlisted  
together. They also died together in Viet Nam and were buried together.

"Mrs. Landingham told me they died on Christmas Eve trying to treat their  
fellow soldiers." Presidential Aide Charles Young worked at the desk across  
from hers. "She worried that they were afraid, but she was glad that they  
didn't die alone. No one should die alone."

Young says he learned every day from the President's secretary. One of the  
things was to watch, not speak. He's another White House Staffer who refused  
interviews until now. "Mrs. Landingham pushed me to be better, to step up  
and do more. She told me about losing her sons. It didn't make her withdraw,  
it made her determined to serve her country in her own way."

He starts college soon, in addition to working full time for the President.  
Their fellow employees report that Mrs. Landingham beamed with pride when  
talking about Young's plans.

People in the West Wing knew that you could find information, aspirin or a  
pat on the back from Mrs. Landingham. White House Press Secretary C.J.  
Cregg was able to fix her glasses after Mrs. Landingham magically came up  
with a repair kit. At the same time, she made sure the President and Cregg  
kept to their schedules by curtailing a long winded discussion of National  
Parks.

Cregg said, "She seemed invincible. When the flu flattened everyone here.  
She soldiered on. The President thought she scared the germs away."

Sometimes, the stalwart secretary just provided support. Donnatella Moss,  
the assistant to Josh Lyman can still feel Mrs. Landingham's hand holding  
hers as they both waited for word on their bosses after the Newseum  
shooting. "I was ready to drop with exhaustion. Mrs. Landingham just kept  
going until we knew everything would be all right."

Deputy Chief Of Staff Lyman admitted that he was a favorite of Mrs.  
Landingham. "I don't know why, somehow I never ticked her off. Can't say  
that about anyone else here. I didn't ever get shut out of the cookie jar on  
her desk. Mrs. Landingham called me 'sweetie' and teased me about leering at  
college co-eds. But, she visited me every day in the hospital."

The normally flip Lyman paused and spoke with a catch in his voice. "She  
bolstered all of us. We had accomplished something and came to tell the  
President. It was silly, but I asked her 'who da (sic) man'. Mrs. Landingham  
played along and said, 'You da (sic) man.' It was a light moment but meant  
the world because her praise was hard to win."

Sam Seaborn also was 'da (sic) man' on that occasion. The Deputy  
Communications Director told of a softer side to the lioness who guarded the  
access to the President. "She loved to garden, she was a knitter who made  
baby blankets and sweaters. She loved music."

Toby Ziegler took her to a concert on Valentine's Day. "She was a great  
companion; knowledgeable and funny in her comments. I thought Walt Whitman  
wrote this passage as if he knew her:

'Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young,  
The young are beautiful --  
but the older are more beautiful than the young.'"

First Lady Abigail Bartlet talked about the bond she shared with Mrs.  
Landingham. "She looked after my husband. She was a doctor and a wife's  
dream, if I wasn't around she nagged him for me."

The memory brought a laugh out. "Mrs. Landingham was once called 'a cattle  
rustler' by the President for keeping some steaks from him. It was all in  
good fun, but part of her protective streak. I've lost a dear friend, we've  
lost part of our family."

Mrs. Bartlet cleared her throat, the laugh was gone and tears were close by.  
"I have faith that there is a life after death. It brings me comfort to  
think of her with her boys and with her husband at last."

The man who knew her best was President Josiah Bartlet. He wanted to walk  
while we talked. We stood in a chilly, rainy Rose Garden and he called Mrs.  
Landingham, "one of my touchstones".

The President glanced toward her office window. "When you're in my job, you  
get put on a pedestal. She divided her time between keeping me up there or  
pulling me off, as necessary. I think I'm more grateful for the times she  
called me 'snippy' and badgered me about eating more vegetables."

He paused and looked at the sky. "Mrs. Landingham also made me laugh. She  
offered to go over a report on sex education with me. I told her, I couldn't  
deal with that."

The President turned to me and that small smile was gone. "Mrs. Landingham  
was a true patriot. She knew the price of liberty, she paid it with her  
sons. She made me realize every day how lucky you are to be in this White  
House and to work for the American people."

The rain poured down now and the President turned to go back inside.  
"Delores Landingham never missed a day of working for the American people in  
15 years, not a day. Now, she'll never have another day when she misses her  
sons, not a day when they won't all be together.

###  
Reporter's note: Memories flood back in a random fashion. That's how people  
remembered things as we talked about Mrs. Landingham. I wrote it the way it  
was presented to me, hoping the torrent of feelings is evident.

I hope you'll permit me a personal remembrance of the treasured Mrs.  
Landingham. She was unfailingly polite but always leery of reporters too  
close to the Oval Office.

At the President's request, I was summoned there one night. I exchanged  
pleasantries with Mrs. Landingham while waiting. I joked that she looked at  
me like I was going to steal something or get ink on the furniture.

She had the last laugh. Mrs. Landingham was about to offer me a cookie but  
my quick wit slammed the lid. I eventually got back in her good graces.

You see the President and think he's the White House. Or you might recognize  
some of the Senior Staff. But you don't see: the sacrifices, long days and  
nights, endless work or the family bond that develops.

Sam Seaborn gave me permission to share this inside glimpse of that family.  
I watched late one night as Mrs. Landingham helped him master the box step.  
It was in the darkened Press Briefing Room. Before she was through, he'd  
learned the basics and some spins.

"I stepped on her feet. Still, she stuck with me. Not long after that, there  
was a reception here. I took to the dance floor with Mrs. Landingham. She  
said she was proud of me. Next, she told me to go dance with someone  
younger."

Seaborn had tears in his eyes. "We made a date for the first dance at the  
next Inaugural Ball. I'll miss having that chance."

We're all the richer for knowing Delores Landingham, we're all poorer for  
only having her for such a short time.-- D.C.

***********  
There are days...


	3. There Are Days

There are days...

C.J. Cregg had lowered the pages of the tribute with a shaking hand. She'd  
gotten the preview when Danny Concannon printed it out from his lap top for  
her.

She'd showed up at his apartment just after he filed it. "It's beautiful,  
Danny. I wish I had your gift for words."

"It sort of wrote itself. Everyone had a story to share.", he brushed her  
praise aside and her tears away.

"The service is tomorrow."

"I know."

"Danny, I hope you understand. I wanted to invite you, but the appearances."

"It's okay, C.J. I'll be there." She looked at him in surprise. "I'm honored  
that the President and Charlie wanted me there. It's off the record, of  
course."

"I'm glad you'll be there. It always helps having you close."

"My favorite place, close to you."

She threw her arms around him. "It helps holding you close. I needed to see  
you. I can't stay but I need you. How would you feel if we made mad,  
passionate, desperate love and then I left?"

"You're planning to use me?"

"Pretty much, yeah, Danny."

"Okay." He began to kiss her and she responded eagerly. C.J. wanted this not  
just for the satisfaction it brought but for the escape.

Danny understood why she was frantic. There was very little in her life that  
was stable.

He was determined to keep it light. "C.J., are we going to the bedroom or  
are you just going to throw me down on the nearest table or floor and have  
your way with me?"

She was ripping off articles of clothing; first hers, then his. It continued  
as she answered with a small smile, "You getting picky?"

"No ma'am, just wondering."

C.J. pointed toward the bedroom. They moved there and on to the bed. Danny  
and C.J. found a small measure of solitude in his bed, in each other's arms.

After their passion was satisfied, C.J. wrapped herself in Danny's arms. She  
whispered softly, "Mrs. Landingham approved of us. She'd be happy I can turn  
to you."

Danny was aware that whatever was dragging down the Bartlet White House was  
about to become public. He was close to getting the story. But he and C.J.  
continued to ignore it when they were together outside the White House.

She left his bed later that night, but not his thoughts.

There are days...

One of the first copies of the Post ended up in Toby Ziegler's lap. Rhonda  
Sachs stopped and picked it up after she got off duty. She delivered it to  
Toby's apartment with fresh, hot bagels and freshly squeezed orange juice.

He let her in. It was nearly 1:00 in the morning but Toby was still dressed  
for work, minus his suit jacket. Rhonda noticed the tired furrows in his  
face. His shoulders were drooping more with sorrow and exhaustion.

"Always on duty, huh?" She hesitated and then hugged him. He clutched at her  
for a minute, needing the contact. Rhonda loosened his tie and unbuttoned  
his top shirt button.

"You should talk. How come you didn't go home?"

"Do you want me to leave, Toby?"

"No. I don't want you exhausted either. You must be with running between  
here, Charlie's house, your place and the police station."

"I'm tough."

"Don't I know it." He gestured to papers all over the area. "I was trying to  
work. My mind is too busy to sleep."

"Let's sit down." She pushed him to sit down on the floor in front of the  
couch. "We'll have a kosher picnic."

"At 1:00 A.M.?"

Rhonda shrugged, "No ants." She moved to a side table and put her gun down  
carefully. She covered it with her jacket.

"You sure you want to be unarmed around me?" Toby enjoyed watching her  
deliberate movements. She was still in uniform, minus her bullet proof vest.  
Her hair was still in a tidy French braid. He was surprised to find he  
wanted to undo it and run his fingers through her hair.

"I still have my handcuffs with me." She settled next to him on the floor.  
"How about some juice?"

"Not for me, got coffee?"

"Yes, juice for you. No, no coffee for you. Toby, you have to take care of  
yourself." Rhonda shifted to face him and found a book blocking her way. She  
lifted it out of the way and glanced at it. "Walt Whitman?"

"Needed to see if I had something memorized correctly."

"For the funeral?"

"No. I'm not speaking. Charlie will, he'll read from the Bible. I hope  
you'll be there."

"Not inside. I volunteered for the detail. I wanted to do something."

"You're the one doing too much. That's not your normal shift. You're busy  
checking on me, on Charlie and his sister, at work. You should be getting  
some sleep."

"I can leave if you don't want to picnic."

"Okay, Rhonda. I'll have some juice. Pass a bagel too, please."

"And here's the Post."

"We get papers at the White House."

"I figured you'd want to see Danny Concannon's Op-Ed piece as soon as  
possible."

"How'd you know about it?"

"Charlie wasn't sure he should have talked to Danny about Mrs. Landingham."

"It was fine and appropriate. She would be okay with it. Hey, you're  
yawning."

"Sorry, Toby."

"Stretch out here on the couch Rhonda. I'll read to you."

Toby nudged her on to the couch and covered her with his trench coat. He  
began to read Danny's words aloud.

Rhonda's hand drifted to his shoulder. It tightened every time Toby was  
quoted. They both had tears in their eyes as Toby finished reading Danny's  
tribute.

"It was beautiful, wasn't it Toby?"

"Yeah. Danny's a good writer. Plus people feel comfortable talking to him."

"That's evident. Charlie will be pleased."

Toby studied the story again. "I thought I knew everything but I never knew  
about Sam's dance lessons from Mrs. Landingham. So many secrets."

He sounded sad again and it tore at Rhonda's heart. "I thought the poetry  
was lovely."

"I remembered it correctly. If I hadn't, I think Danny would have fixed it  
to make it right for her."

"I liked it." Rhonda was starting to drift off to sleep. "I like you too,  
Toby."

He reached up to squeeze her hand. "I'm glad. Get some sleep."

"You too."

"I'll try." With her close by it felt like he could. Toby stretched out on  
the floor next to her on the couch and finally, fell asleep for the first  
time in days.

There are days...

The White House distributed "The Post" in record numbers because of Danny's  
tribute. Copy after copy became tear stained as the words touched people at  
all levels of the White House.

It didn't seem right to congratulate him on it. But, some of those affected  
knew how to show their feelings. Donna put a muffin on his desk, Carol left  
coffee in a new and clean White House mug. Margaret added a plant to his  
cubicle from her office.

Charlie hand delivered notes to Danny from the President and the First Lady.  
He did it with a nod to Danny and an extra hand clasped over a firm  
handshake.

C.J. squeezed Danny's hand as she passed him going into the First Briefing.

She dispensed with funeral details first. As C.J. was getting into the  
latest from Haiti, Danny felt a hand on his shoulder.

Margaret beckoned him out of the Briefing. She told him that Leo wanted to  
see him. She escorted him to Leo's office and closed the door behind the two  
men.

Leo rose from behind the desk and welcomed Danny. "Thank you for what you  
wrote about Mrs. Landingham. We're all grateful. You made her come alive on  
the page."

Danny was touched by the praise. "I liked her and I know how important she  
is, I mean, was to the President and everyone else here."

"You're right. You'll be at the thing?"

Danny nodded.

"Let's sit down then."

They settled into chairs with the desk between them. "Leo, what is it?"

"This is off the record for now. No notes, no tape recorder, no questions,  
no nothing."

"What is it?"

"C.J. will give the same information to a few others after the Briefing. The  
President wanted you to know too. With me telling you, there are no  
appearances of impropriety." Leo chuckled softly, "And we worry about  
appearances a lot now."

"I'm not following you Leo."

Leo took a deep breath. "Danny, the President has M.S., Multiple Sclerosis."  
Danny's mouth fell open. Leo outlined the basics of what had gone on and  
what lay ahead that day.

Danny never interrupted him, he just kept nodding. Danny felt sick about the  
whole episode. He wondered if later he'd be angry at President Bartlet. That  
was for another day and time. His thoughts ricocheted from C.J. to the  
President and his family.

"How is the President feeling physically?"

"He's in remission for now, Danny."

"Tell him I wish him well, Mrs. Bartlet too."

"Thank you. You understand why it has to be done on live TV."

"I suppose, the news conference afterwards is going to be a real scene."

"We know. The President wanted you to know that when it's time for a  
newspaper sit down, it's your exclusive. He hasn't forgotten those late  
night chats from the campaign trail."

"Neither have I, Leo."

There are days...

###########


End file.
